


sun and moon

by sears



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: AU, Drabble, M/M, Minor Mentions of Bullying, Reverse Fake Relationship, Tense Shifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 07:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sears/pseuds/sears
Summary: "What's wrong?" Taeyong asks."You'll laugh."Taeyong laughs, of course.





	sun and moon

Doyoung's voice tends to pack a pretty hard punch.

This time it hit like a lash, quick and almost numb on contact, stinging only after it happened.

"If you paid as much attention to your classes as you do to your image, maybe you wouldn't end up making a fool of yourself nearly every day."

There was a small thread of truth in the words, which is what made it hurt. Taeyong had started it this time though -- implying Doyoung wouldn't know a Thing he most certainly did know. He always does. His pride is alarmingly fragile for being so otherwise confident.

Thing is, he gets under Taeyong's skin. He's insanely good at it too.

"Not everyone cares as much as you do, believe it or not," Taeyong had bit back.

"Oh?" Doyoung's expression turned mocking, his brows lifting in faux concern. "Are you talking about me caring about myself? I'm not the one who spends 40 minutes on my hair every morning."

A somewhat bewildered expression of _'what the fuck'_ passed through Taeyong's face. "Uh, I don't do that."

"Or are you talking about my friends?" Doyoung pushed on, ignoring Taeyong's indignant reply in favor of gesturing at the flock of nervously giddy teens surrounding him. "You know, the other people I spend time with?"

Taeyong's jaw tightened. They weren't even trying to hide the laughter anymore.

"But you wouldn't know much about that, would you?" Doyoung said, looking almost bored. For some reason, that made it hurt more.

The loud scrape of Taeyong's chair was abrupt, and there was a slight glimmer of satisfaction at the way it made Doyoung flinch. Taeyong stalked out of the room, backpack tossed over one shoulder.

Yeah, it stung, but he didn't look back. Not worth it. Never is.

 

But that was this morning, and if night and day were anymore fitting a metaphor for them, they'd be the moon and the sun. At night, they don't do that to each other. Everything's different.

 

Taeyong sits on one of the rusty park tables, the hinges creaking beneath his weight. It's still a little chilly out, the end of a spring that felt more like a winter melting into the hinges. His joints feel almost as creaky as the table's. _"Like an old man"_ , Doyoung would say.

Digging his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, Taeyong weighs out his options. He can bring it up -- make things tense and potentially ruin the space they have outside of the context of school -- or he can ignore it. Knowing Doyoung, he'll be the one to bring it up first anyway.

And Doyoung looks so worn out when he makes his way over, shoulders slumped and his hair falling a bit flat and pathetic around his eyes. Taeyong doesn't have the heart to make it about him and his feelings. Taeyong has thicker skin anyway, where Doyoung needs to be handled with care. Like glass, he can break easily if pushed.

Taeyong taps the toe of his sneaker against Doyoung's when he sits next to him on the table. The thing barely creaks this time, as though Doyoung is weightless in comparison to him. And Taeyong might even be inclined to agree, despite the heavy set of his shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Taeyong asks.

"You'll laugh."

Taeyong laughs, of course. "No I won't."

Doyoung levels him an unamused look, and then concedes with a sigh. "I got a B on my choir exam."

And laughs again. Taeyong has never claimed to have copious amounts of tact. He's still learning that part.

"Ugh, I told you."

"No, no, I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing that you think that matters."

Doyoung rolls his eyes. "Thanks, I feel so much better."

"No really," Taeyong says, tugging on Doyoung's sleeve to get him to look at him. "You have to know you're better than everyone else in that class."

Doyoung shrugs. "It's still nice to have that validation."

"You don't need it. Here, I'll validate you. You're amazing."

Doyoung, as expected, ignores him. He'll build himself up until the end of time, and takes compliments like he's owed them, but never like this -- never from Taeyong alone, under the cover of night. The compliments that actually mean something.

"He just doesn't like me, it's all personal bias."

"You're overthinking this--"

"He asked me to try and stretch my tonal range, and the one time I stand up for myself and tell him I don't do that, I _know_ what I do best, so I'll stick to it-- he just-- he can't stand being wrong, ever since then he's been an asshole to me."

Taeyong tries to hide his smile, says, "Gosh, I wonder why he might not like you."

Doyoung gets quiet then, his brows tense with a tight little knot between them. He's really shaken by this. Taeyong feels an almost ache of concern for him.

"Hey, I meant it. You're amazing, everyone knows it."

Doyoung's eyes when they lift are wide and sparkling. He looks worried.

"I'm sorry."

 _Here it comes_ , Taeyong thinks, and innocently asks, "For what?"

"For what I said today," Doyoung says quietly.

Taeyong shrugs. "It's not like other people don't say it."

"Yeah, but of all people... I know it's not true."

Taeyong takes a deep breath. It's funny how much you miss little things until you forget all about them -- things like your breath fogging on every exhale, or the ease of tensing up within a jacket under the pretense of being cold. Come summer, it's all forgotten.

"I thought that was the point," Taeyong says. "Misdirection is your secret power."

Taeyong can feel Doyoung staring at him, can almost hear the slight frown as he says, "I wish it didn't have to be."

It's somewhat uncomfortable, how little he can hide his emotions from this boy he once thought he'd hate. He doesn't want Doyoung to know how much it really did hurt -- for his own sake as well as Doyoung's.

"Let's get food," he says suddenly, hopping off the table and bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of Doyoung.

When they walk toward the tiny convenience store, a bright spot of light in the inky black of night, Doyoung wraps a single finger around Taeyong's pinky. Taeyong quite happily allows it.

 

\--

 

The first time they met was in an accelerated chemistry class.

Taeyong was flipping his pencil around like it was a drumstick, tapping it against his notebook while his knee bounced beneath the desk. He knew people around him hated him, could feel it and had convinced himself the feeling was real and not a messy concoction of confidence issues and staunch introversion.

He'd never had many friends, certainly not here. No friends, no confidants, no one to connect with. He'd entered his first of many advanced classes that year, younger than most of the other students there, which hadn't helped the sense of not belonging.

That was when Doyoung had walked through the door, young and somewhat shy, despite sending a big, blinding smile at some of the other students he recognized. He'd had soft, just showered hair, Taeyong remembers clearly. It was still a little damp at the ends.

It wasn't until Doyoung took the seat right in front of Taeyong that he realized he'd been given a rather wide berth. It was the only seat directly adjacent to him that had been filled.

"Hi," Doyoung's voice caused Taeyong's gaze to jerk up from staring down at a few scratches in the wood of his desk. "You're in my year, right?"

"Uh, I don't... know." Taeyong replied quietly, with a quick glance around the room.

"Well, either way, I'm Doyoung."

It took a second for Taeyong to realize Doyoung had his hand held out over the back of his chair. Long enough that Taeyong ended up staring at it blankly instead of shaking it in the time it took for Doyoung to pull it back with a confused frown.

After Doyoung turned around Taeyong had heard one of his friends tell him _'don't bother with him'_.

Taeyong's cheeks has burned and his stomach felt like it was sinking. School was stupid, he knew that. Just had to power through it.

 

\--

 

They make their way back behind the convenience store after munching on finger food and stuffing their pockets with the rest. The trees make more noise than the water of the river, which somehow makes it feel more secluded than a public park.

There's a slit of light that cuts through the trees where they stop, back away from the trail, like a string of energy that refuses to die out. It slices across the length of Doyoung's cheek, makes it look like he's bleeding white gold.

He could spend hours looking at him like this, but Doyoung is impatient as all hell, and Taeyong decides it's his turn to be greedy. He backs Doyoung into the rough bark of one of the larger trees behind them until Doyoung's head hits it with a quiet _'whumf'_ of breath. Taeyong quickly buries his face in Doyoung's neck, kisses the warm skin that was just covered by his sweater.

"Hey, wait," Doyoung presses his hand to Taeyong's chest, not pushing, but holding back all the same.

"Don't do this, let me have you," Taeyong almost whines.

"Why do you even like me?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yes."

Taeyong deflates, the weight of the question a tug back from the clouds into the reality of the moment. He groans and says, "I don't know," which he immediately knows is a mistake.

"Great."

"No, wait," Taeyong pleads, tugging the hand that dropped back to resting against his ribs. "I just... I don't know how to say it."

Doyoung frowns, says, "Try."

Walking right up to the edge of a cliff -- that's what Taeyong figures this feels like. That tingling sensation in the tips of your fingers, the swoop in your gut. Fear and awe, and a little bit of excitement, all tangled horribly together.

"I love your voice. I know that's a cliche and everyone says it, but I do."

Doyoung narrows his eyes. "Okay..."

"I love the way you talk," Taeyong continues. "At least how you talk to me. You don't hold back, and you don't take anyone's shit."

Doyoung's tiny grin feels like a caress. "Especially not yours."

" _Especially_ not mine."

Doyoung's hand rises from where Taeyong was holding it against himself, sliding up around to cup the side of his neck, and he thinks-- _this, too_.

"I love your hands," he blurts.

"What, why?"

"They shake a little when you let me hold them," he says, and just to prove a point, he puts his own hand over Doyoung's at his neck. There's a tremble, but honestly it could be his own pulse at this point.

"Why is that a good thing?"

"Because mine shake just before I hold yours." And Taeyong thinks, _it's why I didn't shake your hand that first day, I was worried it wouldn't stop_. "It's like you're taking my nerves or something."

"That's ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous. And I love that too."

Doyoung huffs, seemingly ready to retort, or at least to try to vocally parse through all of what Taeyong's just tangled around them both.

"And I love how you listen," Taeyong adds, nearly frantic now with the need to make sure he knows, truly, how this list is potentially fucking endless. "You don't look through me you just... take it in, I don't know."

And while Taeyong struggles to swallow over the sudden tightness in his throat, Doyoung says, "You've said 'love' every single time."

Taeyong shrugs instinctively, retreating a step -- or he tries to. Doyoung is quick to tighten his grip on his neck, tugging him close to translate some of that frantic energy into a kiss.

 

\--

 

Doyoung had approached him at school that day, after they'd met.

"What's your deal?" he'd asked.

Taeyong had frowned at him and shrugged, his typical response to shit he didn't know how to deal with. Even now, Doyoung sits comfortably at the top of that category.

"You can't be as much of an asshole as everyone says you are," Doyoung said.

Taeyong winced, too slow to try and hide it by the sorry look on Doyoung's face when he looked up.

"Of course you're not," Doyoung said, more to himself than anything.

It had felt intrusive at the time, being read so transparently. He'd said only a handful of words to the boy, and he was halfway to knowing him better than his own parents did.

"What's it to you anyway?" Taeyong had asked, and without waiting for a reply he'd rushed past him.

"Well, you're certainly difficult," Doyoung had said, struggling to keep up with Taeyong's brisk stride.

"Says the guy following me."

"You made me feel bad for you, I can't just leave you alone now."

"Well that makes me feel a lot better."

Doyoung kept his pace, and Taeyong had wondered if it would be crazy to just start running. Or maybe it was crazier that he kind of wanted Doyoung to run with him, for no discernible reason at the time.

"You're really attractive, you know?" Doyoung blurted, stopping Taeyong dead in his tracks.

"What--"

"I think that's why people don't like you--"

"Are you being serious right now?"

Doyoung sighed, said, "Well maybe not exactly that, but it's... intimidating, I guess."

"Why aren't you intimidated, then?"

Doyoung tipped his chin forward, his eyes stern and his expression one that Taeyong has never been able to forget.

"Nothing intimidates me," he said.

And Taeyong, surprisingly at the time, completely believed it.

 

\--

 

"You called me pretty when we first met," Taeyong says through a grin, pressing the words against Doyoung's mouth.

Doyoung pushes him away. "No I didn't."

"Yes you did," Taeyong insists, skipping around him and slipping on a pile of damp leaves as he attempts to walk backwards, right into his path. "You think I'm pretty," he sing-songs.

"No, it was the second time we met."

Taeyong rolls his eyes at the typical pedantic backtalk. "Whatever, same day."

"It makes a difference," Doyoung insists.

"Why?"

Doyoung shrugs. "I had to say it. You wouldn't stop walking."

Taeyong resumes his backwards skip, the art of getting in Doyoung's way a skill he is long on his way to mastering. He grins and says, "But you still meant it."

Doyoung's mouth tilts. "Maybe," he relents.

Taeyong's entire body feels light. He hasn't once looked over his shoulder to see where he's going, to watch for things he could potentially trip and fall on. He knows Doyoung would grab him before he fell, so it doesn't seem to matter.

"I think you're pretty," Taeyong says, grinning.

Doyoung huffs. "I'm not pretty, I'm handsome."

Taeyong thinks of Doyoung in his school outfit -- the cut of the jacket fitting his shoulders and trim waist, the length of his neck and the sharp angle of his Adam's apple, his mouth.

"Yeah, that too."

Doyoung laughs, and doesn't complain as Taeyong continues his almost tribal dance of glee around him as they continue to walk slowly through the trees. It isn't exactly the forest out here -- the trees are thin and anyone could see through them -- but it's dark, and Taeyong feels stupid with happiness.

After Doyoung's had enough of Taeyong dancing around him like a small child hopped up on sugar, he swats him away only to yelp when Taeyong yanks him close again to bite gently at his neck.

 

\--

 

After that first day, Doyoung had immediately gotten the wrong idea.

He came up to him in school the very next day, had tried to talk to him in the hallway as though they were old friends.

"Please stop following me," Taeyong had begged, hands stuffed in his pockets as he picked up his pace.

"I'm not following anyone, I'm just walking with you."

"Well, stop!" Taeyong snapped, turning to him and ignoring the looks they were getting from the other students. "I don't want you to walk with me, just stop."

Doyoung backed away, looking a little hurt but very obviously doing his best to hide it.

"Well, fuck you too, sorry for trying to be your friend."

The mocking tone was enough at the time to annoy Taeyong into walking away.

It hasn't been as easy since.

 

\--

 

Taeyong rocks against him, his hands fumbling their shaky grip at Doyoung's hips. He whines a little when Doyoung pulls back, panting and resting their foreheads together.

"What are we doing?" Doyoung whispers.

The question feels alarmingly huge. It's a blunt truth they haven't tried to navigate through until now. Why now, Taeyong isn't sure, but it's probably to do with impending graduation, the thought of school no longer being a connection -- albeit a somewhat unhealthy one.

"What do you want to be doing?" Taeyong says lowly, quirking a brow and glancing down at where their hips are aligned. It's an attempt to lighten the mood, but he's also partly serious. His pants have felt far too tight for the past hour and a half now.

It gets a smile, but an achingly sad one. Taeyong hates it, but kissing is easier than talking.

 

\--

 

Taeyong had seen him outside of school a few weeks after their first encounter, down by the river later at night while he was out on a run. Approaching him had felt somewhat monumental, an act of bravery that was only fueled by curiosity.

There was no decision to sit beside him without saying hello, or saying anything for that matter. It was more for lack of any idea of what to say at all. Doyoung, at least, didn't seem to mind. He wasn't even a little bit surprised.

"Do you run for the school team?" Doyoung asked, motioning to the running shorts Taeyong wore over his leggings.

"No, just for myself."

Doyoung nodded quietly, turning to look back out at the water.

"I don't think we should hang out at school," Taeyong blurted -- because why not continue to be an asshole at this point?

"Ha, you really had to tell me that to my face, huh?"

"Yeah but, outside of school..." Taeyong shifted nervously.

Doyoung turned to him, smirking. "Embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"No."

"Believe it or not, I'm actually pretty well liked."

"I know that," Taeyong said, and thought, _it's me that isn't_.

"You are pretty weird, you know that right?"

Taeyong shrugged. "So are you."

"Yeah," Doyoung said, and looked pointedly back in the direction that Taeyong had come from -- away from the footpath, specifically. "Who's following who now?"

Taeyong grinned, tearing up a wad of grass before tossing it at Doyoung's face in lieu of a response. He felt giddy, stupidly childish and excited, like a kid pushing over their favorite schoolmate at the playground just to get their attention.

Doyoung sputtered and said, "I think I might like you as much as I hate you right now."

Taeyong leaned back on his hands and said, "Same."

Watching Doyoung's smile morph into one of the big grins he only ever seemed to give to the people he knew was damn near breathtaking.

 

\--

 

"You know I only spend, like, 10 minutes on my hair, right? I feel like I need to make that known."

Doyoung laughs. "I would've assumed you didn't spend any time on it, I don't know where that came from to be honest."

Taeyong frowns. "Is my hair that bad?"

"Ugh no," Doyoung says, flicking Taeyong's ear and grinning when Taeyong hisses in pain. "You never have to spend time on anything to look as good as you do, it's stupid."

It figures that Taeyong decides to blurt out the one thing he'd promised himself to try and bring up more artfully. Of all the things they put out into the open when they meet alone like this -- that Taeyong actually doesn't like himself very much, or that Doyoung has an enormous fear of failure, or that Taeyong once spent an entire weekend cleaning his room so neurotically that it rubbed the skin of his hands raw -- this is the one thing he should really think about before saying. Which is probably exactly why he doesn't. 

"I want to live with you."

Doyoung stumbles back a bit, like he'd been punched by a fairly weak child, or maybe barked at by a cute dog he'd tried to pet. "What?"

"Think about how much better this would be indoors," Taeyong says, grabbing the front of Doyoung's sweater to emphasize the _'this'_.

Doyoung laughs, the sound almost hysterical. "You're insane."

"I'll even clean and cook, you can earn the money and boss me around."

"So I'm the assshole husband in this scenario?

Taeyong smirks. "No, you're just an asshole person."

Doyoung frowns, less at Taeyong, though, and more at himself. "I can cook too."

"I know, but I enjoy it more."

"And I'm not that messy," Doyoung belatedly swats at his hand, and Taeyong uses the movement to grab his wrist to tug him close again.

"I wanna take care of you," Taeyong says. "Let me."

Doyoung stares at him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Nerves hit Taeyong like a tiny spark of electricity, sudden and annoying. He's not sure how Doyoung could have misinterpreted what he said the first time he said it. For being so smart, he can be extremely dense at times.

Taeyong's expression must telegraph the feeling of _'obviously I'm serious'_ , because Doyoung asks, "How?"

"Doesn't matter. We'll figure it out. You're smart, I'm smart--"

"I'm smarter," Doyoung interrupts.

"Whatever, we'll just--" Taeyong takes a shaky breath, running his hands through his hair. "We'll make it work."

Doyoung bites his lip, clearly still unsure -- whether he's unsure about living together, or whether Taeyong means it is unclear. Still, instead of pushing it further, Taeyong leans down a little and lifts his brows in a simulacrum of a _'yes?'_ , and it feels like floating when Doyoung's mouth quirks into the tiniest of grins as he nods quickly.

Doyoung's words may pack a punch, but nothing will ever top this.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi dotae is the most pure, thanks for coming to my ted talk


End file.
